


Don't Count the Ribs on the Devil

by Eblis (Huff_Puff)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Animal Death, Child Neglect, Dark, Gen, Heavy Angst, Insanity, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mind Games, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Paranoia, Past Tense, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 00:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13422963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huff_Puff/pseuds/Eblis
Summary: The Devil had always liked to play games, since as far back as Prompto could recall.The Devil had been his friend and his confidant, and then he had become the fear that hung ever present over him; the prowling eyes in the darkness and the laugh inside his head.And Prompto was good. Prompto kept out of trouble and did what he was told. He took his medicine and did his homework.But the Devil had always been the best at games. And Prompto hadn't won one yet.





	Don't Count the Ribs on the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Coming back at you with the start of another fic. I'm still working on the other two but unfortunately my laptop crashed and I lost basically everything. Super gutting, but hopefully rewriting the chapters will improve them :')
> 
> This fic is going to be short but...very dark. It's going to deal with mental health issues and the dark places they can take you. I'm trying to experiment, so the whole thing could be utter hogwash yet. We'll see! But please do mind what you're stepping into. 
> 
> Chapter warnings: animal death, medication

The Devil had been with him since his earliest memory.

When he was four, they would play together; dance through the wildflowers in the park until his mother berated him for running off again.

“But Mom! I was with Ardyn!” He would proclaim. She would search the area, and find nothing.

Ardyn was always best at playing hide-and-seek when his parents were around.

When he was eleven, they learned together. Prompto would focus the light of the sun through his glasses so the ants in the garden burst into flames. His father caught them, grabbed him fiercely by the arm and dragged him inside despite his protests.

“But Dad! Ardyn said they liked the fire!”

“Ardyn isn’t real, Prompto! Ardyn isn't real!" He shouted once they were indoors.

Ardyn quietened his cries when he was locked in his room without dinner and nail marks indented in his wrist. He told him he was special.

When he was sixteen, they began to sneak out of the house together so Prompto could take a switchblade to the throat of whichever neighbourhood cat was unfortunate enough to stumble on them, and drain it of blood until it stopped it’s high pitched mewling and lay still and cold on the sidewalk. 

"I can’t do this,” he had said, with hands that shook hard enough for the blood slicked blade to clatter to the ground. "Ardyn- I. I can't. I can't. _Please-_ " 

“Yet here you stand,” he had replied amicably - always amicably. And he couldn’t deny that.

So when he was sixteen, he told his parents what he had done. He told them Ardyn made him do it. He told them he was scared.

His father took him to a doctor, who told him there were other people who too dealt with their own personal Ardyn's. After a few visits, she gave him pills in a plastic white bottle that rattled when he shook it and told him to take two every single day.

Take two every day he did; sometimes an extra when the iron grip of paranoia clenched tight around his throat and stopped his breath. Those were always the worst days. 

When Ardyn disappeared, it felt like just another one of his tricks at first. He expected him to show his face in a few days time, tired of this game like he tired of so many others, but he hadn't. Eventually the night became easier to deal with. He stopped jumping at every creak of wood, every whispered word. His insomnia lingered like an ever-present curse, though he suspected that stemmed from his medication more than it did his crippled mind. There was no Ardyn to keep him up until the sun peeked above the horizon.

Seventeen was a year of improvements. Ardyn still hadn't show his smug face. Prompto finally had to admit to himself that he was crazy. Not crazy in the ‘haha, you're insane!’ way. Crazy in the ‘you’re insane and should be locked up’ way.

He thought so sometimes, too. But he was ever the optimist, so he tried to take something positive out of his absence.

So, maybe there were some screws bent out-of-place in his head – at least he could admit that, and didn’t everyone always say admitting there was a problem was the first step?

He had severe problems focusing, but he had his lack of attention span to thank for undoubtedly one of the best things to happen to him in his life: his best friend Noctis. He'd been in Prompto’s class at school for years, but with Ardyn occupying every corner of his mind he’d never really paid much attention to the sullen boy who sat two rows behind him.

Noctis, formerly his math tutor and now his closest confidant, knew about his insomnia, and what his medication was for. He even knew, to some extent, about Prompto’s 'activities' before being medicated.

Without fail, Noctis would ask if he'd taken it that day when his caretaker dropped him off at school. It was a little tiresome, but he knew Noctis just worried. He worried too.

Noctis knew a lot. Prompto trusted him with almost everything.

But Noctis didn’t know about Ardyn.

Which is where, really, the problems all started.

* * *

It was a scorching hot summer day in Insomnia. Prompto could see the waves of heat simmering in the distance, and there was tar from crossing the road sticking to the soles of his shoes. The Argentum lawns were a burnt brown. They crunched where he tramped across them, shedding dead grass across his socks.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open, bracing himself.

“Mom! Dad! I’m home!”

His answering reply was silence. He dropped his tensed shoulders, sighing into the empty room.

The ticking clock pounded into the back of his skull. After so long, he'd have thought the disappointment would have eased some. It still stung the same.

He slid his shoes off, throwing his school bag on the couch.

Every day he came home to an empty house was another day it became harder to think positively.

On his slow trek to his bedroom he paused to look at the calendar. He flipped it back two months to May, where there was a great fat red circle around the 8th. It was the 12th of July now. The realization dropped a stone into his stomach. It had been over two months since they’d last come home. This was their longest stint yet.

He was still getting his weekly allowance, but he’d have given that up in a heartbeat if it meant they came home to see him. The problem was, Prompto didn’t know if it was their work keeping them in Altissia, or if it was him. Every day felt like some sort of personal attack, but he didn't understand. He'd been doing so well lately, so what was the problem?

He dropped the calendar, heading to his room, and fell straight on his bed, face planting into the pillows.

_Don’t think about it._

He didn’t know how long he lay there, eyes closed and steadying his breath so he didn’t have a panic attack, but when he finally sat up to the growl in his belly the streetlights outside his window were on and the weather had cooled down a little.

Prompto doubted he could have fallen asleep in this heat, anyway. Too hot or too cold and any chance of rest alluded him.

Each light buzzed to life with quiet comfort. The shadows they didn’t keep away stretched longer, waiting to seep through the light's failure. He skirted around each to the refrigerator. The light made him squint, but it and the cold air were a welcomed reprieve from the dark and the heat.

The lone tomato and egg weren't. He picked up the milk carton and shook the dregs in the bottom.

Right. Groceries. He was supposed to do that today.

He shut the fridge door with a long sigh.

The darkness swallowed it up and left him standing alone in his too empty home. The gentle ticking of the clock did nothing to mask the feeling of being watched. He couldn’t quite swallow the lump in his throat.

Turning his head slightly to stare into the darkness, he said, “Ardyn?”

Like every other night, silence was returned to him, and just like every other night, he didn’t quite trust it.

Prompto left for the safety of his bedroom. He didn’t bother turning off the lights. And if the shadows mocked him as he went, he pretended not to notice.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
